


Unbidden

by dogheaven



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Animate Object, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, im so sorry for this, inspired by a drawing on my art blog i guess, is object fucking a tag??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogheaven/pseuds/dogheaven
Summary: It’s a long time coming, Duck thinks. He's been expecting this.





	Unbidden

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit im so sorry. this escalated. a lot.

It’s a long time coming, Duck thinks, as he shucks his jeans at the foot of his bed. His face burns painfully hot as he kicks them off his feet.

Beacon waits patiently, a sly, smug smile on his face as he lays propped up against the pillows, the tip of his blade precariously poking against Duck’s wall. His sheets are a mess, Duck notes, as if it’s of any importance. As if he’s _not about to do this._

And it _had_ been a long time coming -- Beacon was, well. He was a _terrible_ flirt to Duck, for reasons unfathomable to him. What the hell would a sword get out of that transaction?

It had calmed down most definitely recently after their impromptu reunion, but Duck could remember a time when this stupid inanimate object was propositioning him _often,_ in a way so crass and lewd it made Duck seriously consider tossing him in a river tied to a bag of rocks.

He had _standards,_ he tried to tell the sword, he wasn’t _that_ desperate for action, Jesus Christ.

And Beacon would smile with those sharp canines, eyeless and saying nothing, and to Duck it looked like the sword _knew_ something, was teasing him with that stupid pseudo-expression. It made Duck itch and flush, feeling weirded out on one level and curious(?) on another, because he _knew_ the offer remained open, and Beacon was just patiently waiting for his resolve to break.

And the sword had been right ( _of course_ he had been right, when is Duck _ever_ right), in now that Duck is basically an old man with less-than-normal sexual experience (read: a total virgin), horny and frustrated and needing some kind of relief after all this emotional build-up.

So he had agreed, after an absurdly embarrassing incident just a few minutes ago in which Beacon had _heard_ him in his bedroom from the kitchen cabinet, and called out in his terrible, terrible voice, “ _Duck Newton,_ I believe I can _help you_ with that?”

And, well.

Duck is a weak, horny man.

Not horny enough, though, that he doesn’t see the absurdity and mortification of crawling, naked, onto his mattress, over to his “chosen one” weapon, face flushed a blotchy red down unto his chest. He scratches at his chest hair once he’s close to the pillows, hesitating.

The sword sneers, his lip curling up in distaste. “Come _closer,_ Duck.”

It’s sort of startling for Duck to be, well, _ordered around_ by this inanimate object, but he accedes, a little tingle in his belly as he pulls the sword closer by its hilt until Beacon is in his hands, settled into his lap. He licks his lips, smiling up at Duck. The gesture makes a throb go straight through to his dick, and he _knows_ he’s done for if that’s all it takes to get him worked up. It’s terrible -- ( _he’s terrible)_ \-- that he’s just found out he’s got a domination kink because a magic object told him to _come closer_ (it’s three words, Duck! That’s all he said! _Three!_ ).

Beacon fills in the little gap of dithering with a click of his tongue.

“Well? _Wield me,_ Duck. I _know_ you’re capable of that. Even if this your first time.”

That startles Duck and he opens his mouth to ask _how did you know that_ but shuts it just as quick, because he’d rather not prolong this terrible situation any more than strictly necessary.

Instead, he sort of straddles the sword, the grip between his thighs and the blade up and parallel to his face. Beacon licks his lips again and Duck chokes a little on his breath, but he’s worked up enough that it isn’t too much of a stretch for him to bring the sword’s mouth up and against him, mere millimeters from his cock.

He feels Beacon breathe out lightly, blowing on him and sending chills down his thighs (and briefly wonders where the breath is coming from, what the hell?), but then without preamble, his tongue, wide and flat, comes out and licks Duck up from his entrance to his cock, and _holy fuck_ he isn’t expecting that.

He lets out a startled gasp, hand coming up to bite on the meaty part between his thumb and forefinger as he resists resists the urge to pull away from the sudden intruder against him.

Beacon chuckles against his labia, his gleaming teeth just barely visible above Duck's unkempt thatch of hair and he frowns down at the sword, pushing his hips forward to try and urge him into starting. He had been relatively close earlier before Beacon had interrupted him, and now desperately wants to know if this mouth can get him there again. He’s wet, flushed, already good to go, and after that little unexpected lick against him, he wants more.  

After a beat, Beacon scoffs but then does comply, licking up and into Duck in earnest as the man breathes out hard above him, holding the cross guard with one hand and the sharp edge of the blade with the other. The slight sting of the sharp metal grounds him, gives him something to focus other than the full lips around his cock and the _absurdly_ long tongue licking deep into his cunt. It's almost maybe too much simulation, hitting the nerves at a level just painful enough to make his legs involuntarily tremble, but Fuck doesn't dare ask him to stop.

It feels unexpectedly good once he’s over the weirdness of having something slimy and warm against him and he can just pretend it’s an odd sex toy, barring the little breathy noises Beacon makes in reaction to Duck’s keens. When he's alone, his hand against himself feels good, but the surprise and the not knowing what Beacon’s going to do next makes his toes curl in pleasure.

The sword hits that sweet spot Duck usually finds so easily. He groans, the ending of it curling up into a moan as Beacon picks up on the sensitivity and _sucks._ His hips buck almost involuntarily into the wet heat, and Beacon hums against him as Duck grinds his cock into the feeling. It feels _amazing,_ and he stupidly wishes he’d done this sooner.

Duck whimpers when Beacon pulls back from his ministrations to just barely nibble at his labia with those terribly sharp teeth, letting Duck cool down from the ardency of his mouth, and just the _idea_ that he could be bitten by those canines makes Duck throb. He doesn’t even take a moment to think about it when he pulls up the sword to his mouth and presses his lips to Beacon’s, groaning low in his throat.

Beacon, for the first time, is surprised into a stupor for a brief moment, and then he’s kissing Duck back. It’s not romantic at all -- it’s messy and disgusting and all teeth and Duck is _terrible,_ since he’s never really kissed anyone before, but the musky, salty taste of himself on Beacon’s tongue makes him croak in his throat. He reaches down to tug his cock roughly between two knuckles, groaning into Beacon’s mouth.

The sword seems content to let it happen, let Duck bring himself off as Beacon licks up and into his mouth, his teeth tugging on Duck’s lower lip and sucking a bruise into it.

Duck, unabashed at whatever terrible noises he’s making leans over and down so he’s ass-up, face smushed into his bedding as he rubs zealously against his cock with three fingers. He doesn’t even care about the gross, wet noises he’s making with his palm against his sex when he’s so close, he’s so, _so close,_ and it’s only a few minutes until he’s coming, hot sparks shooting through his body from his cock to his brain, and everything feels like too much but it feels _good,_ even as he gets a cramp in one calf from being tensed up so hard. He unabashedly hisses obscenities, no regard to what the hell he’s even saying as he fucks into his hand, full of a fervor he didn’t even know he had.

Face buried in his sheets, he rides out his orgasm as long as he can, little aftershocks making his legs twitch as he jerks his hips into his hand for the last few moments before pleasure turns into overstimulation.

He pants, exhausted.

 Sweat and saliva and slick run down his thigh, and he almost forgets Beacon’s there, but then of course his voice trills just inches from Duck’s ear, and he can most definitely hear the terribly smug grin in it:

“...I’m _very_ certain your entire apartment heard you just now, Duck. And also, you scared your cat.”

Duck sighs heavily, afterglow ruined, and wipes his hand on his thigh. He rolls over clumsily onto his back and stretches out his cramping leg. He’s still catching his breath as he puts Beacon on the bedside table (the blade safely away from his flesh, toughness be damned), and leans over to turn off the lamp. It’s not nearly his usual time for bed, but he feels worn out. He thinks he’s maybe too old for this. They sit in silence for a good two minutes, the blood rushing in Duck’s ear slowly dropping down to his normal heart rate. He’s cold by the time his body’s back to normal and fumbles for a moment to get under the blankets.

“...Goodnight, Beacon.”

“Goodnight, Duck Newton. You’re welcome.”

“...I, uh. Yeah. Uh… Thanks.”

The sword hums in recognition and Duck turns away from his stupid smiling mouth, facing towards his window instead.

He feels boneless, sated. He’s sticky between his legs but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Now, it’s time to sleep, post-orgasm and pre-monster fighting that’ll inevitable come tomorrow. The street lamp outside casts a gentle golden glow on his pillow, broken by the slats of his blinds. He’s comfortable. He’s sleepy. His sword is silent for once.

Duck is about to drift off, thoughts fuzzy and eyelids heavy, but then it hits him like a sack of bricks.

He let _Beacon_ eat him out.

His first time was with a fucking _sword._

Hot shame explodes in Duck’s chest and he groans, his face flushing. He rolls into his pillow, voice muffled. “Holy shit,” and then, “Jesus _Christ.”_

“What’s that, Duck Newton?”

“Fuck, just -- We’re never doing that again, you hear?”

Beacon laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH i cant believe im like. actually posting this sjdskadka.  
> again. im so sorry.  
> i got a few anons that were strangely into duck/beacon???????? i just???? AH?? 
> 
> but anyway yeah this was a weird exercise in trying to write a non-human character. i did ok i think??? lmk if you hated it, thanks.  
> the drawing is from https://marziporn.tumblr.com , come find it yall weirdos


End file.
